


Standing On the Hot Road

by sleepypercy



Series: Kerouac Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, PWP, boys unrelated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:22:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepypercy/pseuds/sleepypercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months ago, Sam and Dean met on a bus. They haven't seen each other since then, and Dean decides to go visit Sam at college.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing On the Hot Road

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Jack Kerouac's _On the Road_.  
>  Much love to [cosmonaught](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmonaught/pseuds/cosmonaught) for the beta.

Sam was drawing pictures in the sand when Dean found him again.  
  
He hadn’t changed much in the months apart, although it was difficult to tell in the fading sunlight. Sam’s hair was as wild as ever, flying around his head as the briny wind kicked up, blowing his bangs back into his eyes.  
  
Sitting at his side, a pretty blonde laughed and shook her head as the mini-tornado whipped strands of hair around her pink-cheeked face. When the wind eventually calmed down, she pushed her loose hair behind her shoulders and reached over to sweep the obstruction out of Sam’s vision, the gesture intimate and familiar.  
  
Dean shifted uncomfortably, his boots sinking in the unstable ground, although it wasn’t the girl that made him wary. Instead, he found himself feeling more than a little out of place, like he’d stumbled into the wrong puzzle, knowing instinctively that the gutted shape of his crevices and sharp-edged corners would never fit into what was clearly a scene of promising, bright-future youths.  
  
He was seriously considering getting in his car and going back to where he came from when— _shit_ , too late now—one of Sam’s friends noticed Dean staring and nudged Sam’s attention his way. After a few stunned blinks, Sam’s face stretched into a broad, unreserved grin that had Dean rooted in place while the kid jumped to his feet and rushed across the sand. Before he knew what was happening, Dean found himself yanked forward into an enthusiastic hug.  
  
“Dean!” Sam sounded nothing short of incredibly pleased, and Dean instantly relaxed into Sam’s open affection, moving his arms around so he could stretch them behind his back and feel Sam’s bonfire-warmed sweatshirt heating his chest.  
  
“What took you so damn long?” Sam asked with a grin when he pulled away.  
  
“Some of us have to work for a living,” Dean answered off-handedly. “California vacations ain’t exactly cheap. But I was passing through, thought I’d drop in.”  
  
Based on the tilt of Sam’s eyebrows, he wasn’t fooled for a second. But he laughed and let Dean hold on to his nonchalance.  
  
Sam invited Dean to join his friends. They had extra blankets and plenty of drinks in the cooler, but Dean shook his head. Sam smiled knowingly and suggested they head back to his apartment instead, hinting at of a ‘private tour’ that sounded more than promising. Sam just had to give his roommate a head’s up, so Dean waited by his car while Sam went to find him.  
  
Dean watched Sam pull aside a guy who grinned and punched Sam on the arm in response to whatever he’d said. But before Sam could make his way up the hill to the parking lot, the blonde from before stopped him, a thin line of worry between her eyebrows that Dean could see all the way from where he was standing. Dean couldn’t hear the conversation, but when the girl finally headed back to the bonfire, she didn’t look entirely appeased, and she threw Dean more than a few suspicious glances.  
  
“What was that about?” Dean asked mildly when Sam made it to the car.  
  
Grinning, Sam replied candidly: “Jess thinks you’re Ted Bundy and that you’re trying to kidnap me.” Dean just nodded, but there must have been something in his look that made Sam chuckle and add: “She’s just a friend… mostly. Nothin’ to worry about.”  
  
“Who said I was worried?”  
  
Again, Sam’s eyebrows arched, and that razor-sharp perception should probably have disturbed Dean. But somehow he preferred Sam being able to see past the bullshit and swagger; it kept things honest.  
  
Sam broke eye contact, smiling at the ground for a minute before looking up with a playful light in his eyes. “Well, anyway, I told Jess that you’re a friend, and I’m leaving of my own free will.” Motioning towards Dean’s neck and face, Sam added conspiratorially: “I think maybe it’s all those cuts and bruises that triggered the big-sister protection—and, uh, is that blood on your shirt?”  
  
Dean glanced down and realized that his shirt sleeve was more crimson than white, and the bandage currently covering a missing chunk of arm flesh had been bled through. The stain was a sharp reminder of what had actually managed to get his ass out near the west coast: ghoul activity in Reno. Belatedly, Dean placed a hand over the dark spot, clumsily replying: “Yeah, uh, sorry. I didn’t bring an extra…”  
  
But Sam took the whole thing in stride, ignoring Dean’s stumbling explanation as he slipped fluidly into the car, ready to move on.  
  
*&*  
  
Once inside the apartment, Sam gestured vaguely around them in a parody of a tour, but Dean didn’t give a flying fuck where Sam’s hot plate was stored. Grabbing Sam’s outstretched wrist, Dean threw him against the closest wall and pressed himself so deeply into Sam that he could feel his heartbeat thudding from every pulse point.  
  
Sam tested Dean’s grip on his wrist, laughing softly. Dean shut him up easily, sealing his full lips against Sam’s and working against them until he forgot what he had found so amusing. The first few brushes against Sam’s lips tasted like salt water and sand with a hint of alcohol and an even fainter hint of vanilla lip balm. Dean stripped each flavor like a layered candy, licking and sucking until he came to the center to where it was just Sam, pure and clean and simple.  
  
Dean would have liked to have appreciated that flavor a little longer, but he was willing to settle for Sam moving his mouth across Dean’s jaw and dragging his teeth behind his ear and down the side of Dean’s neck. The angle had him leaning into Sam’s shoulder, and, _god_ , Dean could smell the ocean in his hair and the wood smoke in his sweatshirt. He wanted to find out how deeply that fire-smell had soaked, if it had seeped into the pores of Sam’s skin.  
  
Sam paused to worry a spot into Dean’s neck, pulling skin into his mouth and behind his teeth, and Dean felt his own tongue rubbing against the roof of his mouth in reflexive response. Doubtless, there’d be a fresh bruise in the morning—another purple mark added to an already plentiful assortment on Dean’s body—but Dean didn’t mind in the least and kneaded his thumb into the nape of Sam’s neck in an encouraging way.  
  
By the time Sam was content with his work, Dean’s hips were grinding circles, garnering just enough friction to take the edge off his building lust. For the moment.  
  
When Dean reached up to grab Sam’s face and pull their lips back together, he could feel Sam’s grin. It probably should have been irritating, knowing what he likely had planned. But instead Dean found himself mirroring Sam’s easy-going nature, taking his amusement in stride while trying to steer him towards the bed. Refusing to be led, Sam pulled back with a laugh.  
  
“Going somewhere?” he asked teasingly.  
  
“Trying to,” Dean growled, wondering why Sam’s feet were rooted to the floor. “Come on, Sasquatch. I’m not carrying you across the threshold if that’s what you’re waiting for.”  
  
“Nope,” Sam replied enigmatically. “Not waiting for that.”  
  
“So what are we still doing here?” Dean’s tone was a little sharper than intended, but, really, what did the kid expect, riling him up like that, teasing him until he was ready to pop, then pulling on the brakes like a cheerleader with a chastity belt?  
  
“I have something I need to ask you,” Sam stated, tone firm before he laughed wryly and added, “And I swear, once I’ve got an answer, we’ll be on my bed inside of two seconds.”  
  
Dean sighed warily. “Alright, Sam. Lay it on me.”  
  
The smile on Sam’s lips twitched slightly. “So, it’s been six months, and I just wanna know… why haven’t you returned any of my calls?”  
  
Groaning, Dean let his head tip forward to fall against Sam’s chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean asked, his voice muffled in the cardinal-red sweatshirt. “We’re taking a pit stop to talk about our _feelings_? You need a promise ring, princess?”  
  
“Not exactly,” Sam answered patiently, his voice still light, though the levity in his eyes had turned dangerously serious. “But you _are_ going to answer me.”  
  
“Look, kid,” Dean sighed. “I’m not big on phone calls. If you’re looking to chitchat, try a thirteen-year-old girl or a 900 number. And I sure as hell don’t know how to do any long-distance crap. You try to force that on me, I’ll only end up fucking things up.”  
  
As Dean’s hands kneaded restlessly against Sam’s arms, Sam looked to be considering Dean’s assertion with a pensive turn of his lips. Then, very deliberately, he leaned down to kiss Dean, pressing firmly until Dean relaxed and leaned back into Sam.   
  
Sam’s breath swept into the ridges of Dean’s ear. “Maybe I want things fucked up. Look, whatever demons you’ve got in your closet, I promise I can handle ‘em. But I’m not letting you walk away again.”  
  
Dean was still trying to process that when Sam, apparently ready to follow through on his earlier promise, grabbed Dean by the arms and maneuvered them both onto the bed. Pushing Dean back against the mattress, Sam slid himself right on top, with his legs stretched on either side. When Dean started squirming, protesting the arrangement, Sam chuckled and pinned him down with his hands and hips.  
  
“Oh, no,” Sam scolded. “You don’t get to ignore me for half a year and then expect to call the shots.” But then his fingertips traced a line across Dean’s jaw, and his voice softened as he said, “Relax, Dean; I’ve got you. Don’t you trust me? Just… let someone else take control for a bit, okay? Let me take care of you.”  
  
Dean was just about to snort and reply that he didn’t need to be _taken care of_ , but then Sam cunningly reached down to palm Dean’s hardening cock, and Dean swallowed back his half-lie.  
  
Against all odds, he found that he really did trust the guy. There was an odd mixture of purity and power in Sam that triggered an inner desire to both protect and depend on him. So Dean stopped struggling, let his shoulders sink back into the mattress, and gave Sam a thin smirk. “Okay, Casanova, you can take the wheel—though I remember you making all sorts of promises last time about how _good_ you were gonna make this for me. You ready to put your money where your mouth is?”  
  
“Hell yeah I am,” Sam asserted, his dimples cutting deep into his cheeks. He started eagerly pulling at Dean’s clothes, all systems go now that he’d gotten the green light. “I’m ready to put a _lot_ of things where my mouth is.”  
  
Chuckling quietly at Sam’s shameless enthusiasm, Dean carefully maneuvered his arms and legs through Sam’s impatient tugs and tried not to get strangled with his own shirt. In just a few seconds, Dean was stripped completely, every scar and bruise exposed to the open air. Sam frowned a little at the bandage on Dean’s arm, but after ridding himself of his own clothes, he leaned back down, letting his warm body cover Dean’s heavily-marked skin.  
  
Dean breathed in deeply, pleased to find that Sam’s skin still held faint traces of bonfire sparks that made him smell like flames and blackened firewood. Angling them both up, Dean started moving his mouth against the boy’s shoulders and across his chest, letting his tongue trail over Sam’s fire-soaked skin while Sam’s hips started grinding circles between them that made Dean’s eyes roll back and his eyelashes flutter against Sam’s chest.  
  
He could hear the hitch in Sam’s breath as Dean’s hands and mouth sensitized his skin. Every touch scattered shivers that even Dean could feel. After just a few minutes, Sam’s muscles went tight, and a soft, steady whine sounded from the back of his throat. His hands scrambled to push Dean back and his hips went rigid.  
  
“I… damn it, Dean, driving me crazy. Gotta make this last,” Sam said in-between tattered breaths, rising from the bed and pulling Dean until he flipped compliantly onto his belly.  
  
Sam drew Dean back to the end of the mattress, one hand smoothing up and down Dean’s spine and the other sliding up his perineum as Sam slotted himself inside the crevice of his legs. Dean could feel Sam murmuring things into the backs of his legs, around his hips, at the tip of his spine. Dean wondered for a moment about Sam’s need to fill the silence, but then Sam leaned in and Dean sunk deeper into the rumpled bedspread as he felt the warm, wet sensation of Sam’s tongue sliding down the dip of his ass and prodding into the puckered hole beneath.  
  
Dean groaned as he felt himself opening and relaxing while Sam continued to rumble indiscernible things into his skin. Soon, there was a small snick of a sound, the opening of a lid, and the careful crook of a finger replaced Sam’s tongue, working Dean wide and loose and wet while Sam’s other hand moved past Dean’s balls to grip his dick. Dean closed his eyes as he let himself sink into both those stimulations, his hips unconsciously churning.   
  
Sam was good at pushing and dragging in all the right spots. He had Dean squirming on his fingers in just a few minutes, Dean’s body suddenly on-board with the thought of Sam lodging himself deep inside. Dean was ready ages before Sam let up, his dick hard and leaking long before Sam decided to flip him back around so he could see Sam’s flushed cheeks and dilated eyes, no doubt a reflection of Dean’s own similarly-aroused state.  
  
When Sam didn’t immediately pound himself in, Dean opened his legs wider and braced his feet at the sides of Sam’s hips, all in open invitation for Sam to get the show on the road. If possible, Sam’s eyes went darker, and Dean didn’t know if Sam was being intentionally coy or just slow. But, all semblance of patience shot to hell, Dean hooked his legs behind Sam and jerked him forward.  
  
“ _Oh_.” Sam fell forward in surprise, catching his hands on the mattress on both sides of Dean’s chest. Sam grinned, though the expression was brief. He couldn’t seem to manage a smirk while his breathing was ragged and shallow. Reaching down, Sam pushed against the inside of Dean’s thigh with one hand while he gripped his cock with the other and—much to Dean’s relief—slid himself home.  
  
It was tight. It had been a decent while since Dean had been in this position, but Sam had prepared him enough that he could adjust and relax into the stretch.  
  
For all the kid’s zeal, Sam went slower than Dean expected, though his rhythm was hard and steady. His hips snapped snugly into Dean while managing to angle every thrust just right until Dean was rolled back into the onslaught of pleasure. He could hear himself making small, muted noises, though Sam’s heavy breathing and grunts covered most of his sounds.  
  
Through the narrow slit of his eyelids, Dean could fully appreciate the way this gorgeous boy fucked him. Sam shamelessly enjoyed every second, with his chin tipped up, his cheeks flushed hot, and making sounds that were very likely echoing straight through the walls.  
  
Just when Dean could feel Sam start to tense, Sam reached down to put his hand on Dean’s weeping cock, jacking his hand low and obviously trying to take Dean to the edge with him. It didn’t take more than a few tugs before Dean’s dick jerked into Sam’s twisting palm, shooting heavy over his fingers and scattering twisted lines and droplets across their bellies. With a low, relieved sigh, Sam braced himself against Dean’s shoulders and got in a couple more tense thrusts before he groaning into Dean’s neck, twitching and pumping slickly inside Dean.  
  
Almost certainly remembering the last time, Sam turned his head to let Dean shove his mouth against Sam’s lips, the older man greedily drinking in the hum of Sam’s muted grunts and heavy breaths while Sam’s hips rolled slow and lazy. When Sam stopped altogether, he let out a slow, shaky breath and wetly slipped out of Dean.  
  
Dean continued pressing his mouth into Sam’s, choosing just the right moment to reach down and thumb firmly against the nerves in Sam’s sensitized head, causing the younger man to yelp right into Dean’s waiting mouth.  
  
“ _Jerk_ ,” Sam said, knocking Dean’s hand away and attempting to kick Dean in spite of the cramped space. Dean chuckled unapologetically, not even bothering to defend himself when there was nowhere to go. Sam wasn’t able to do much more than scrape his foot against Dean’s leg, anyway, so after a few failed attempts at retribution, he gave up and shuffled them around into the most comfortable position they could manage.  
  
“Quit bitching,” Dean huffed into Sam’s chest. “You got what you wanted, right? A nice piece of this sweet ass.”  
  
“Mmm,” Sam murmured in agreement and palmed said ass fondly. “You know you’re not leaving here in the morning, right? Patrick’s staying away for the whole weekend.”  
  
“Oh, is that right?” Dean commented in a dry voice. “Seem pretty confident there, Sammy.”  
  
“And stubborn,” Sam said, yawning and tightening his arm around Dean’s shoulders. “So you might as well accept that you’re staying. And no more of this every-six-months shit. When I call, you better answer.”  
  
Dean didn’t respond. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d start promising all kinds of crazy things that he wasn’t sure he could follow through with. But even with the silence, Sam seemed content that Dean would do as he said, and he pulled Dean’s head down a little so he could nuzzle into him.  
  
And while Dean still wasn’t convinced that Sam could actually handle his level of fucked-up, it seemed Sam just might be stubborn enough to try.


End file.
